


philosophy for dummies

by guineaDogs



Series: south park drabbles [2]
Category: South Park
Genre: Awkward and funny sex, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Drabble, Drunk Sex, M/M, failed blowjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 13:01:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16703113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guineaDogs/pseuds/guineaDogs
Summary: drabble request for @tsunya99Two drunken idiots get to the bottom of the chicken and egg debate.





	philosophy for dummies

“I'm not wearing that.”

“Well that's too fucking bad,  _ Kyle, _ a bet's a bet, and it's time to cough up, Jew-boy.”

Kyle closed his eyes and took a deep breath. As tempting as it was to let his fist collide with Cartman's nose, he had a modicum of restraint left within him. “You didn't even win, Fatass.”

Cartman sounded just like Dennis Nedry as he waved a finger at Kyle with an  _ ah, ah, ah _ . God, he hated him. “Fuck you, I won fair and square. The terms were me not eating any fast food for a week, and I succeeded.”

“Bullshit! You had Panera yesterday!”

A chortled response immediately followed. “Panera isn't fast food, Kahl.”

How could someone so  _ stupid _ be so self assured — “Yes it is!”

“Screw you,  _ Kya-le _ , I had to wait twenty minutes. That's not fast!” 

A maelstrom of insults filled the room as the two men went at each other's throats. Cartman, with his fat cheeks blotched and Kyle, red in the face as he snarled with rage. And then there was Stan, pinching the bridge of his nose before before he threw himself into the midst of it all as he had countless times over the years. “Enough already! This is the dumbest thing you two could possibly be arguing over. Just wear the costume, Kyle, you agreed to it.”

The redhead gave the costume a forlorn look as he sighed, resigned to his fate.

 

* * *

When Kyle observed his reflection in the almost full-length mirror attached to the back of his bedroom door, he was filled with the same sort of self-loathing he felt as a child, when his skin was so thin that he couldn't handle the prospect of someone not liking his hat, or having to take a class photo with said hat  _ off _ .

But this was also a different sort of humiliation. This had nothing to do with having unruly hair that was a pain in the ass to deal with. This was bright yellow tights that fit too snugly. This was a full on  _ chicken _ costume, complete with white puffy feathers covering everything but his legs. They even framed his face, and almost entirely obstructed the red comb on the top of his head.

He hated this. He hated that somehow he was deemed to be the loser in this stupid bet.  

When he emerged from his room, he was immediately met with howls of laughter, the sort of full-bodied wheezing that had him questioning whether Cartman was choking. If only he was so lucky… 

“This.  _ This _ is so great. I can't, I just fuckin can't. You look so ridiculous.”

“Do I really?” Kyle asked dryly, outstretching his arms as he looked down and appraised the abomination he was wearing once more. “I never would have noticed, were it not for your astute observation.”

“Oh no! Kahl's using his SAT words, he's really butthurt, you guys. Remember, you gotta wear it at the party for at least an hour.”

“I was there when we set the terms. I didn't forget.” But boy did he have regrets. 

As he piled into the car with his friends, Kyle wasn't sure whether it was a good or bad thing that he already knew most of the people who were attending this party. They would all know that this sort of thing wasn't the sort of thing he would do normally, but because they knew him, they were also all the more unlikely to forget this awful costume.

If there was a sliver of a silver lining, it was that it  _ was _ a costume party. It would have been much worse if Token was hosting a cocktail party — not that many of their former classmates would want to attend something so formal. 

Stan parked the car along the side of the street in front of the Black residence. It was already late in the evening, as the group followed the ground light lit pathway to the front door, Kyle felt like there were eyes on him. The moment they stepped into the foyer, he  _ knew _ that was true. 

Feeling the back of his neck burn, he quickly announced that he was getting a drink. As always at Token's parties, there was a wide selection of alcohol and mixers to choose from. In a matter of moments, Kyle had something stiff that warmed his core and relaxed his nerves. 

He lingered in the kitchen for a while, set on finishing his drink at the very least before subjecting himself to the very real ridicule that would come from hanging in the large parlor where most of the party attendees were.

As he contemplated a second drink, he saw him. Craig Tucker. Tall and broad shouldered, he seemed to be more filled out than the last time Kyle saw him. His costume was somehow more stupid — an oblong piece of brown cardboard strapped to his chest. He'd clearly put in about as much effort as anyone would have expected from him. 

“What are you supposed to be? A shield?” 

Craig poured a copious amount of bourbon into his red solo cup. Apparently he had nowhere else to be, as he leaned against the counter beside Kyle rather than flipping him off and retreating. “An egg. Nice chicken costume.”

Kyle rolled his eyes. “I lost a bet. But an egg?  _ Seriously _ ?”

The response was a resounding shrug. “Why not. Clyde's a hotdog.”

It was the alcohol that had Kyle laughing, because it really wasn’t  _ that _ funny. It just did that for him, loosened him up, and the more he drank, the easier it was to forget that he was wearing something so embarrassing. He got a second drink, a third, and as drunkenness took hold, he couldn’t stop  _ giggling _ , couldn’t do anything about the burning of his cheeks.

Tucked away in the kitchen, he was more than content to block out the rest of the party talking to  _ Craig Motherfucking Tucker, _ of all people. They leaned in close as they spoke — at first due to the volume of the party, then just  _ because _ — discussing anything that came to mind. Trying to make sense of Kevin Stoley’s costume. Discovering they were both obsessed over the same show. Kyle talked with his hands as he excitedly shared his theories for the rest of the season.

In doing so, slung the remainder of his drink across the kitchen. Most of it landed on the floor, some on the counter, some on the back of Kelly Rutherford-Menskin’s shirt. Eyes wide and covering his mouth, he immediately turned away from her to face Craig, who was also failing to keep his composure. He found his distraction in running his hand over Kyle’s feathery side, and Kyle quickly discovered he didn’t mind it at all. Far from it.

Their conversation took a more heated turn after that, easily finding excuses to touch one another. At some point — Kyle wasn’t sure how long they’d been at this — Craig leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of Kyle’s ear as he spoke, sending a jolt of electricity down Kyle’s spine. “So — who would come first, the chicken or the egg?”

Kyle’s face lit up with something mischievous. Quickly glancing over his shoulder, as if concerned that someone might have been watching them, he looked back at Craig and snatched up his hand. “Let’s find out.”

At some point earlier in the evening, Token had made a point of placing a stanchion in front of the bottom of the staircase. There was even some polite sign asking guests to remain downstairs for the party. But that didn’t stop Kyle from pushing past it, tugging Craig up the stairs with him. 

The two wound up in an immaculately clean bathroom. As soon as the door was closed and locked, they were on each other. Craig latched onto those feathery hips, pinning Kyle against the counter as Kyle’s hands found the nape of his neck, pulling him into a heated kiss. It was clumsy, and in this drunken state, with far too much saliva and tongue. But it felt  _ good _ , and Kyle felt nearly desperate for more.

Craig tasted like bourbon, and as Kyle slid his tongue against Craig’s, as he explored every part of that mouth that he could, he was determined to lap up every trace of that flavor. His hands slid over Craig’s shoulders, and as he tried to figure out what to do with the strap across his shoulder, about that ridiculous cardboard egg pressed between them, Craig’s hands slid beneath the hem of Kyle’s feathery outfit, cupping his ass. “‘m gonna suck you off,” Craig murmured, breathlessly as he broke the kiss, mouthing at Kyle’s neck.

“That’s cheating,” Kyle informed him, but he had absolutely no qualms about pushing Craig down onto his knees. He jutted his hips outward in an attempt to be somewhat helpful as Craig found the hem of his tights, tugging them down just enough to expose his already hard cock. 

In another situation, he might have had at least a sliver of decorum and consideration for anyone else in the house — granted, if that consideration existed at the moment, he wouldn’t have crossed that stanchion at all. But right now, the only thing that mattered was that warm tongue dragging along the thick vein on the underside of his dick until it reached the tip. Kyle wasn’t at all concerned about how loud he was, for once in his life, because nothing beyond this bathroom existed in his mind. 

Slender fingers slid into Craig’s silken albeit messy locks, tugging sharply enough to draw a hiss from him, and dear lord it was  _ hot. _ It seemed to encourage Craig, as he swirled his tongue around the tip before taking it fully into his mouth with gusto. Kyle nudged his hips, admittedly a little impatient and mad with desperation for  _ more. _

Craig was more than happy to give that to him. He bobbed his head, cheeks caving in as he attempted what he intended to be an unforgettable, mind-blowing blowjob. Regardless of his intentions, however, he was still drunk. He was still drooling all over Kyle’s dick — and it wasn’t bad at all, not really, as the cooling saliva offered an interesting sensation in and of itself. But then, as he attempted to take Kyle all in fully, he gagged, and as he drew back clumsily, there was just a tad too much teeth.

Enough that Kyle pushed him back with a firm hand on his shoulder. “That’s not happening. Get up, we’ll just do something else.” He wasn’t willing to risk his dick getting bitten off, but he still saw no point in wasting a boner. 

As Craig got to his feet, Kyle turned around, pilfering through the cabinets. “There has to be lube, or baby oil, or something.” Because even as drunk as he was, he didn’t want to proceed without some kind of lubricant. Instead of baby oil, he found a bottle that read  _ SK-II Facial Treatment Oil. _ It was small and looked expensive, but it said  _ oil _ , so that had to be good enough. 

When he turned back around, bottle in hand, Craig was bracing himself against the counter. “We’re gonna use this, and we’re gonna get to the bottom of — what were we trying to figure out again? Wait, no, I remember, nevermind.” 

They didn’t worry about undressing. Craig pushed the egg further up as he undid his jeans, and as he leaned back in to nip and suck at the sensitive parts of Kyle’s neck — the parts that made him feel weak in the knees — Kyle poured a copious amount of the oil in his hand. Wrapping that hand around both of their throbbing cocks, he stroked them. 

The sound of oil-slick movements filled the room along with the sounds of their grunts and groans. The feathers of Kyle’s costume brushed against their dicks but it was hardly a hindrance even if it was  _ weird. _ Craig’s hands found Kyle’s ass again, squeezing, before cupping the back of his thighs, lifting him onto the edge of the counter.

Kyle responded immediately, wrapping his legs around Craig’s waist, his breath hitching, his moans growing louder as Craig rocked his hips, garnering even more friction. Like this, it didn’t take long for them to reach their climaxes. Kyle continuing his movements, sliding his oil-slick hand along the lengths of their dicks even after he spilled over, until Craig found his.

He’d barely a moment to catch his breath when Craig’s lips brushed against his ear again. “It was the chicken.”

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr [@thaumatroping](https://thaumatroping.tumblr.com/) & req stuff there if you want!


End file.
